Cricket
by Hermione Eveningfall
Summary: Frodo has hay fever but Bilbo has no idea! *FINISHED* Please read and review! Thanks!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The characters' names and places belong to J.R.R.   
Tolkien.   
  
Chapter 1  
  
"Frodo! Dinner!" Ninety-nine-year-old Bilbo Baggins stood in the   
doorway of his large smial, Bag-End, and watched as his twenty-one-  
year-old nephew Frodo hurried inside from the front yard.   
  
"Hullo, Bilbo." Frodo greeted, planting a kiss on his Uncle's   
cheek as he came inside.   
  
"Did you have a busy day, my boy?" Bilbo asked as he followed   
Frodo into the kitchen. "Ah, ah, ah. Not till after dinner." He   
laughed as Frodo went to inspect the freshly baked ginger bread on   
the counter.   
  
"It looks wonderful." Frodo washed his face and hands with   
freshly scented lavender soap before sitting down in his usual spot   
at the old round table. Bilbo set the plate of roast duck, cream of   
broccoli soup, and honey-dipped carrots in the center of the table   
before taking a seat himself.   
  
"Thank you. So tell me all about your day." Bilbo took some meat   
and prepared to listen to his nephew's tale.   
  
"Well--I went with Fatty to Myrtle Burrows' birthday party in   
Bywater. It was great fun--lots of treats, dancing, games..." He took   
a spoonfull of carrots.   
  
"Yet you still have enough room for your dinner?" Bilbo raised   
an eyebrow with suspicion.   
  
Frodo's cheeks turned a light shade of crimson at the   
comment. "Well--we had a bit of a work out on the way home. We cut   
through Farmer Maggot's field as a shortcut and his big bull dog   
chased us all the way through the field and up a tree before we could   
get rid of him."  
  
Bilbo shook his head. "What am I going to do with you?" He asked.   
  
Frodo shrugged as he continued to eat. Bag-End was beginning to   
feel like a real home to Frodo, who had grown up in an enormous Smial-  
-Brandy Hall in Buckland. At the age of twelve, Frodo lost both of   
his parents: Drogo and Primula, in a nasty boating accident on the   
Brandywine River. For nine yars Frodo lived as an orphan at the hall,   
not necessarily neglected but rather overlooked as Bilbo often told   
the neighbors. Then, on his twenty-first birthday (September 22nd),   
Bilbo adopted the lad and brought him to live at Bag-End.   
  
"This IS good." Frodo complimented as he savored the thick,   
creamy soup. After his third spoonfull, Frodo felt a horrible   
prickling in his rather pointy nose and it wrinkled up. Bilbo   
immediately knew what was coming and quickly handed Frodo a napkin.   
The lad sneezed violently into it three times and was out of breath   
when the fit ended.   
  
"Are you all right, my boy? I hope you aren't catching a cold!"  
  
Frodo shook his head as he wiped his now streaming nose with   
the napkin. "I don't know, Bilbo. It felt as though there were   
something in my nose."  
  
Not quite convinced, Bilbo placed a hand against Frodo's   
forehead, checking his temperature. "No fever."  
  
Frodo smiled and gave Bilbo's arm a gentle squeeze. "It is   
nothing. Just a few sneezes."  
  
"I'll say." Bilbo relaxed and the meal continued. Frodo filled   
his Uncle in on what exactly happened at the birthday party and sent   
Bilbo into fits of laughter.   
  
"You and females do not mix, do you?" Bilbo asked as he took a   
bite of a fluffy biscuit.   
  
Frodo smiled. "I'm afraid not. I just can't seem to understand   
them, but the odd thing is that they understand us."   
  
Bilbo had to agree with that one. In his youth he had had a   
few "flings" but they never lasted long. Just as he was finishing up,   
Frodo made to sneeze again, but pinched his nostrils together with   
his thumb and pointer finger and sneezed silently.   
  
"I think you had better get to bed, lad. I'll bring your   
gingerbread to you."   
  
Frodo rolled his eyes. In all honesty, he felt perfectly fine   
everywhere else. His throat did not hurt and his head and muscles did   
not ache, which were normally symptoms of his colds and flus.   
  
"I'm FINE, Uncle, and you need help with the cleanup."  
  
Before Bilbo could protest Frodo began clearing the plates away   
from the table and bringing them over to the sink. Once the dirty   
work was finished, Bilbo sent Frodo to bed and sliced a nice thick   
piece of the sweet bread, poured the lad a cup of ginger tea and   
brought the items into the lad's room. Frodo was undressing and   
getting into his nightgown when his Uncle entered and climbed into   
his soft featherbed. "Oooh." Frodo smiled as Bilbo came over and sat   
the plate and teacup into Frodo's hands.   
  
"Would you like me to read a story to you, Frodo? I know you're   
getting a bit old for that, but..."  
  
"I'm never too old for your stories, Uncle Bilbo." Frodo   
admitted.  
  
Bilbo glanced towards the window. "It's getting awfully stuffy   
in here. I'll open the window a bit (now Frodo's room faces the   
garden and the rosebushes are all along the bottom of the window. So   
if the window is open, then what will happen with the pollen?) to   
bring in some fresh air."  
  
"Yes please." Frodo took a bite of the bread and watched as   
Bilbo lifted the latch and lifted the pane before pulling a chair   
beside his nephew's bed.   
  
"Let's see now...which story shall I tell you tonight?" He   
asked.   
  
"How about the one about Tom Bombadil and when he goes boating?"   
asked Frodo, sniffling a bit as he took another bite of his cake and   
washing it down with the tea.   
  
"All right, cricket." Bilbo laughed. Cricket was a nickname Bilbo   
had chosen for Frodo following the lad's first serious childhood   
illness. A cricket was small and frail but still full of life, so the   
name fit Frodo perfectly. "The year was turning brown; the West Wind   
was calling; Tom caught a beechen leaf in the Forest Falling..."  
  
(BOMBADIL GOES BOATING can be found in the TOLLKIEN READER) 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
The next morning Frodo opened bleary eyes to find bright sunlight streaming through the open window. He didn't feel as though he had the flu but his nose was blocked and his eyes and ears itched for some very strange reason. 'What's going on here?' he thought to himself as he struggled to sit up.   
  
"Frodo, lad...breakfast!" Bilbo called from the kitchen.   
  
Normally if he was ill, Frodo's stomach would have churned at the slightest mention of food but he had a pretty much perfect appetite and slid out of bed, grimacing as his bare feet touched the hardwood floor. He sneezed loudly as he went to retrieve his robe from his press and put it on. Then he made sure to grab a fresh handkerchief from a small wooden box on his desk before joining his Uncle in the kitchen.  
  
"Good morning." He greeted, seeing his Uncle at the stove stirring bacon in one of the old iron frying pans.   
  
"Good morning, cricket. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Strange," Frodo admitted. "Not ill really--just all plugged up." He gave Bilbo a quick kiss before starting the process of setting the table.   
  
Bilbo watched his nephew with concern as the lad sneezed and thought about fetching the healer, just to be on the safe side. "I wish I knew what was wrong, Frodo." The old hobbit said with sympathy. "Are you sure you don't feel the least bit ill today?"  
  
"Besides this? No." Frodo admitted, proceeding to sneeze loudly again.   
  
"I really think I ought to fetch Dr. Burrows just to be safe." Bilbo went to place a hand against Frodo's forehead and to his relief it felt cool.   
  
"No fever. You are a mystery, my lad. Well--sit down and eat a good meal and then I'll go and get the doctor."  
  
Frodo obeyed Bilbo, knowing that it was useless to argue. Breakfast was a rather quiet affair that morning. The only noise that could be heard was Frodo's sniffling.   
  
"I'm sorry, Bilbo." Frodo apologized after sneezing twice in a row. Bilbo took a sip of his plain tea with honey and turned to gaze out of the open window into the backyard garden. He could hear the clippers of Hamfast Gamgee, who was usually up at dawn and working on the grass and the flowers. Bilbo paid the Gamgees very well for their work and often times treated them like family.   
  
"It's not your fault, lad. We just have to find out what's causing that sneezing. Perhaps you've come up with a new, unidentified illness."  
  
Frodo laughed. "Wouldn't that be a jolly thing! Frodo Baggins-occupation-gienea pig."  
  
Bilbo ruffled Frodo's hair, causing the lad to laugh again. When breakfast ended and the dishes were put away, Bilbo grabbed his walking stick. "I'm going to fetch the healer, Frodo. You just lay down and rest in the parlor. We'll figure this whole thing out, all right?"  
  
Frodo nodded and went to lay down on the couch with one of his books and listened to the door open and close. Just as it did, Frodo broke into a fit of sneezing and nearly fell off the couch with exhaustion. 'Ugh,' he thought miserably, dabbing at his now streaming nose. 'I hope Dr. Burrows can find out what's wrong with me before I sneeze my head off.' He suddenly felt very thirsty and went to fetch himself a glass of water from the kitchen, but yet another sneeze took over and he quickly sat down again. Just as he was preparing to stand a second time, there were a few knocks on the door. 'Must be Sam,' he thought as he struggled to stand and went to open the main door. Sure enough, the gardener's young son stood in the doorway and was smiling brightly.   
  
"Good morning, Mr. Frodo! Me Da' wanted to know if you wanted anythin' from the market today."  
  
"I don't think we need anything. Bilbo just went to fetch the doctor so I can't say for sure."  
  
"The doctor, sir? Not ill are you?"  
  
Frodo raised his eyes. "I don't know."  
  
Now it was Sam's turn to look startled. "How could you not know whether you are ill?"  
  
"It's very strange. I've been sneezing all morning so far but I don't have a fever or anything."  
  
Sam bit his lower lip in thought. "Wonder what the matter is, then. Well, sir--you'd best be layin' down jus' the same. I'll tell me Da' that Mr. Bilbo went out an' we'll check back later."  
  
"Thank you, Sam." Frodo watched as the young hobbit went back to join his father in the work and he suddenly felt the urge to sneeze again. He quickly shut the door and sneezed violently.   
  
'Please come back, Bilbo. I may sneeze myself to death.' Frodo thought with misery. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Frodo was grateful when he heard the door to Bag-End open and   
his Uncle's voice. He felt a sudden sneeze coming on and covered his   
mouth with his hands as the explosion occurred.   
  
"Good morning, Frodo." Dr. Seredic Burrows greeted the hobbit   
with a smile. "Bilbo tells me you're not feeling well today?"  
  
Frodo shrugged. "I feel a bit better. Just tired."  
  
Dr. Burrows nodded and set his black leather breifcase on the   
coffee table. Bilbo took a seat next to his nephew and put an arm   
around him while the healer prepared to give the tweenager a check   
up. "I've half-managed to convince myself that this could be some   
strange disease," Bilbo chuckled. "Mind you—Frodo's been through   
enough that I have a reason to do so."  
  
Dr. Burrows laughed. "Don't worry yourself to your own   
sickbed, Bilbo."   
  
"I know." Bilbo admitted.   
  
Dr. Burrows soon had everything out that he needed and before   
he began the check up, he asked Frodo a series of questions. "How   
exactly have you been feeling? When you woke up this morning, how did   
you feel?"  
  
"Clogged up," Frodo replied. "Could hardly breathe. Then I   
couldn't stop sneezing during breakfast and it wore me out I guess."  
  
Dr. Burrows nodded. "I see. Well—as a precautionary measure,   
let me just take your temperature. You never know—these fevers can   
come up at any moment."  
  
Bilbo agreed with that statement. Dr. Burrows stuck a   
thermometer into Frodo's mouth and asked that he keep it under his   
tongue for about two to three minutes. Bilbo made sure that Frodo was   
at perfect room temperature and scootched away as so not to interfere   
with anything. Frodo felt quite rediculous with the instrument   
sticking out of his mouth. He kept eyeing Bilbo with a pitious   
expression and the old hobbit gave him a warning glance. When the   
minutes were up, Dr. Burrows removed the thermometer and looked at   
it.   
  
"Perfectly normal temperature. This is in deed strange. You   
know—perhaps I ought to look up his symptoms in one of my medical   
books at home, and perhaps I could find something. But let me just   
check your breathing and your heart and we'll be through with it."  
  
Frodo had to lie flat on his back on the couch and unbutton   
his shirt and nearly cried out as the cold metal tip of the   
stethescope touched his skin. The healer asked him to breathe in and   
breathe out a few times before he was satisfied. "Your breathing is a   
bit conjested, but I see no sign of any serious illness at the   
moment."  
  
Bilbo heaved a sigh of relief but rubbed his temples after   
Frodo sneezed again.   
  
"What are we going to do, Doctor?"  
  
"For the time being I would just continue your normal   
routine. Let the sneezing basically run its course and carry plenty   
of extra pocket handkerchiefs when you go out. At least you aren't   
ill again." Dr. Burrows patted Frodo's arm, receiving a smile.   
  
"Thank you, Dr. Burrows. Frodo—don't wipe your nose with your   
sleeve. Here, lad." Bilbo pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and   
handed it to his nephew. "Would you like a cup of tea before you go?"   
  
"No thank you, Bilbo. I hope you feel better, Frodo. I'll see   
what I can find in my books." The doctor stood and headed for the   
door just as Frodo broke into another fit of sneezing, shook his head   
and headed outside. When the doctor was gone, Bilbo sat down on the   
couch as his nephew took a deep breath.   
  
"I hope he finds out what's wrong with me soon. I don't know   
if I'll be able to handle this constant sneezing anymore." Frodo blew   
his nose loudly and accepted a kiss on the head from Bilbo.   
  
"Just take it easy today, my cricket. If you need anything at   
all, let me know. Would you rather be in bed or on the couch?"  
  
"On the couch. I'm not feeling so ill that I need to be in   
bed, Uncle." Frodo chuckled.  
  
"All right. I'll be in my study. Just holler if you need me."   
Bilbo stood up and headed out of the room. 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
Frodo spent most of the afternoon resting on the couch.   
Reading even bothered him, for his eyes had begun to water and he   
could hardly concentrate on the words. Around dinnertime, Hamfast   
stopped by to give Bilbo the things he'd picked up from the market   
and was startled to see Frodo lying down wrapped in a quilt.   
  
"Are you ill, Mr. Frodo?" The Gaffer asked with curiosity as   
he watched Frodo sneeze into a handkerchief. Bilbo sighed.   
  
"I'm not sure what's wrong with him. It's the strangest cold   
I've ever seen! No fever or anything."   
  
Another sneeze from Frodo echoed Bilbo's words.   
  
Hamfast nodded. "Well, I hope you feel better. Here are the   
things you asked for, sir. A carton of eggs, milk, chamomile   
tealeaves, and a box of fresh handkerchiefs. That was everything,   
wasn't it?"  
  
Bilbo nodded. "Yes, Hamfast. Thank you. Good night." He   
added as the gardener left for his home. When the door was shut,   
Frodo took another deep breath and wiped his nose with the hanky he   
held.   
  
"What did you get Bilbo?" he asked. (Though the poor lad's   
nose was so plugged up that it sounded more like "Wud did you ged   
Bibo?")  
  
"Some tea for you and some handkerchiefs for you. See? They   
even have your initils embroidered in the corner." Bilbo showed one   
to his nephew and Frodo saw the letters FB stitched in dark blue   
thread.   
  
"Thank you." He replied. "Bilbo—do you think I could take a   
few breaths of fresh air? Maybe it'll clear my nose."  
  
"If you feel you must. None of your symptoms prevents you   
from doing so my boy. Just don't go too far—I'm starting to cook   
dinner. How does roast pork sound?"  
  
Frodo grinned. "Fine. I'll be only out back, Bilbo." He gave   
Bilbo a quick kiss before heading towards the kitchen and out the   
back door that lead into the enormous garden. (Big mistake heheheh)   
He took a seat on his favorite stone bench underneath the cherry   
blossom tree and took a deep breath. What startled Frodo was that as   
soon as he did this, he felt as though his air passage suddenly   
blocked and had to kneel down and try and regain his   
strength. "Bilbo…." He gasped, clutching at his chest as he sucked in   
air. His voice was so weak that surely his Uncle couldn't hear it. He   
glanced up and the world seemed blurry through his watery eyes. `I   
can't breathe….' He thought in a panic. He felt very dizzy a few   
moments later and the world then went black.   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
"FRODO! Come inside, lad! Time for dinner!" Bilbo called out   
the window of the kitchen. When he heard no reply, Bilbo scratched   
his head in confusion. "FRODO!" He called again, but this time headed   
for the door. "FROD…." He felt his heart freeze. Frodo lay on his   
back right before one of the benches in the garden, his arms sprawled   
out.   
  
"Frodo!" Bilbo cried and hurried to his nephew's   
side. "Sweetheart—open your eyes. Please." Bilbo eased Frodo into a   
sitting position and eventually Frodo's impossibly blue eyes   
fluttered open.   
  
"Urm." The tweenager mumbled, leaning limply against   
Bilbo. "Where `m I?" He asked weakly.  
  
"You're out in the garden. What on Earth happened?"  
  
"Dunno. Just remember….I sat down on the bench and then I   
felt really dizzy. Couldn't breathe."  
  
"Couldn't breathe?" Bilbo asked in a panic. "Oh dear…." He   
cradled Frodo in his arms. "Come on inside, cricket. I'll give you a   
nice warm bubble bath. How does that sound?"  
  
Frodo nodded. "Can't get up….too tired."  
  
"All right. Up we go." Bilbo lifted Frodo into his arms and   
carried him into the smial and straight into the indoor privy. Frodo   
sat leaning against the wall as Bilbo filled the tub with warm water   
and poured the lavender-scented soap bubbles into it. Then he helped   
Frodo undress and helped the lad into the bath, watching as Frodo   
sunk in about halfway.   
  
"I have to go and look after the roast. I'll be back in a few   
minutes. Just relax." Bilbo ordered. When Frodo was alone, he let out   
a small sigh and just allowed the water to sooth him. He must have   
passed out, but he didn't remember. All he knew now was, he just   
wanted to be in his soft featherbed asleep. However, the bath DID   
feel wonderful, and the scent of the lavender seemed to clear his   
nose a bit, but it was still nastily stuffed up.   
  
When he was finished his bath, he called for Bilbo who came   
in right away. He wrapped Frodo in a fluffy white towel and carried   
the boy to his bedroom. "I think you should go to sleep early, Frodo.   
But do you want dinner still? You can say no if you don't want it at   
the moment."  
  
"I do want it," Frodo told Bilbo. "But can I have it in bed?"  
  
"Of course honeypot."   
  
"Honeypot?" Frodo asked, raising his eyebrow.  
  
Bilbo laughed. "Oh my…..I am coming up with a dozen nicknames   
for you, aren't I?" He gave Frodo a kiss. "Well…..I'm going to bring   
you a small platter. Here are the extra handkerchiefs…..right on your   
nightstand if you need them. Would you like the room dim?"  
  
"Yes please. But—but can you leave the window open a crack?   
It's a bit stuffy in here."   
  
"Sure. Not too much, though…..don't want you catching a real   
chill." Bilbo opened the window about an inch before hurrying to fix   
Frodo his dinner. Sighing, Frodo squiggled up so that he was leaning   
against his headboard in an easier eating position. Being in bed felt   
lovely too, but it was odd. His breathing had returned to normal and   
his nose was not as stuffy either. `Must be some strange disease,' he   
thought to himself as he reached for one of his new handkerchiefs.   
When Bilbo returned with the platter, Frodo was surprised to see that   
the old hobbit had brought his plate into the room as well on a tray.   
  
"You shouldn't have to eat alone, so I'll bring my dinner in   
so I can keep you company."  
  
Frodo grinned. "Thank you, Uncle. I love you." He added,   
bringing a tear to Bilbo's eye.   
  
"I love you too."   
  
Despite feeling lousy, Frodo was grateful to have someone so   
wonderful to take care of him. 


	5. Chapter 5

Story Title: Cricket  
  
Disclaimer: all of the characters names and places belong to J.R.R.  
  
Tolkien. I am merely borrowing them for my own personal pleasure ;)  
  
evil me, eh? lol. no, im not canadian. ;)  
  
Rating: C for cuteness!  
  
  
  
The next morning, the healer returned to Bag-End, looking quite  
  
pleased with himself. In one hand he held an old, leatherbound book  
  
and in the other a paper bag.  
  
"Did you find anything?" Bilbo asked hopefully as he let Dr.  
  
Burrows into the smial and shut the door behind him.  
  
"In deed I did, but there is good news and bad news associated  
  
with it."  
  
Bilbo sighed with relief--at least Frodo's current illness was  
  
heard of. He led the doctor to Frodo's room, where the lad sat in bed  
  
blowing his runny nose on a hanky.  
  
"Shut the window, Bilbo, and have a seat--then I will explain  
  
to you what the problem is."  
  
Bilbo obeyed and took a seat next to Frodo on the bed and  
  
watched as the healer set his things down on the desk and sit down  
  
himself. Both Baggins's anxiously awaited the news.  
  
"Frodo is suffering from "allergic rhinitis"," Dr. Burrows  
  
began.  
  
Bilbo gasped. "That doesn't sound good at all!" he cried.  
  
The healer chuckled. " "Allergic Rhinitis" is just a big name  
  
for "Hay Fever". Frodo is suffering from allergies, Bilbo."  
  
"Allergies?"  
  
"Yes. Now what I have brought with me here are a few common  
  
allergy triggers...dust, pollen, animal fur and mold spores. Before I  
  
begin the tests, let me tell you the good news and bad news, since  
  
you obviously wish to hear that first. Allergies are not life-  
  
threatening, but they can be either seasonal--happening during  
  
certain times of the year--or all year round."  
  
Bilbo hugged Frodo tightly. "Is there a cure?"  
  
"Unfortunately there is not, Bilbo. The best cure--at least  
  
this is what the medical book says--is avoidance of the trigger. Now.  
  
I am going to run some allergy tests on you, Frodo. I am going to  
  
take each of these things out of this bag individually and hold them  
  
under your nose. Whichever makes you sneeze is the culprit."  
  
Frodo nodded. "All right." He agreed.  
  
Bilbo stood up and watched the doctor reach into his bag. The  
  
first thing he pulled out was a bit of cat fur, and he went over to  
  
Frodo's bedside, and held it under Frodo's small, pointed nose. Bilbo  
  
held his breath as Frodo's nose crinkled, but thank the Shire, he  
  
didn't sneeze.  
  
"Mmm mmm." Frodo sniffled.  
  
"So you're not allergic to cats. All right--next--let me try  
  
some plain road dust." He took another plastic bag from the paper one  
  
and brought it over to Frodo. He held the open bag under the lad's  
  
nose just as he had with the cat fur, and both of the elder hobbits  
  
waited anxiously for a result. Still, Frodo didn't sneeze.  
  
"Not allergic to dust either. That's a good thing, however--  
  
because I am sure there is dust around this place." Dr. Burrows  
  
winked at Bilbo, who scowled.  
  
"I'll tell you, sir, that I keep this place perfectly tidy."  
  
The healer chortled. "Now for the mold. This is an indoor  
  
trigger as well, but can also be found on trees outdoors. Looks quite  
  
like dust, but a bit thicker."  
  
He repeated the process with this, and still Frodo didn't  
  
sneeze. The tweenager was slightly relieved that three out of four  
  
things weren't bothering him, but the fourth--a handful of plants  
  
from the backyard garden of Bag-End.  
  
"Now if this isn't the trigger, I'm at a complete loss, lad."  
  
Bilbo laughed.  
  
Dr. Burrows smiled as he placed the flowers on Frodo's  
  
bedcovers. Suddenly, Frodo's nose crinkled up and he felt the  
  
familiar prickling inside of his nose. "That's it," he gasped as he  
  
sneezed loudly, not once, not twice, but three times in a row. "I'm  
  
allergic to pollen."  
  
"Oh dear," said Bilbo.  
  
"Let me get these away from you." Dr. Burrows took the flowers  
  
off of the bed and brought them back to their original spot in the  
  
bag. "There now. We've found the trigger for Frodo's allergies.  
  
Pollen is the most common allergy trigger, I'd hate to say, and with  
  
your large garden in the back, Frodo will have a rough time."  
  
"You're not suggesting I chop it down, are you?" Bilbo asked in  
  
horror. Frodo's mouth fell open at the very idea.  
  
"Oh Bilbo--" he cried. "We CAN'T do that! Mr. Gamgee--he won't  
  
have a job and then his family will starve!"  
  
Dr. Burrows raised an eyebrow. "Ah--Mr. Gamgee from number 3  
  
Bagshot row?"  
  
Frodo nodded, running his handkerchief under his nose once  
  
again. "My best friend is his youngest son Sam and Sam helps his dad  
  
in the garden all of the time. I like to go out and visit them on  
  
nice days."  
  
"I see. Well I obviously won't ask you to do such a thing.  
  
However, I do advise you to be weary of your allergies, Frodo. You  
  
will be very tired as a result of them, and I would suggest that you  
  
keep the doors and windows shut at all times if possible--especially  
  
the window to this room, as it overlooks the garden."  
  
Frodo smiled with relief. At least he could still go on with his  
  
life and not worry about having to remain bed-ridden for weeks at a  
  
time, as was usually the diagnosis when the healer came to the smial.  
  
"So. Any further questions or do you need more of an explination  
  
for anything in particular that I told you?" Dr. Burrows asked.  
  
Frodo and Bilbo looked at each other. "Is there anything I can do  
  
to help ease the sneezing? Any deconjestants?"  
  
"Just grin and bear it." Dr. Burrows replied. "I really wish  
  
there was more I can do, but allergies have not really been worked  
  
with that much. We're still finding cures for the common cold for  
  
heaven's sake."  
  
Bilbo laughed at the comment. "Yes. I had quite a nasty cold  
  
this past winter and poor Frodo had to take care of me." Bilbo gave  
  
Frodo a kiss and the tweenager hugged him back.  
  
"I do remember that. You were rather ill. Well--if you have no  
  
further questions, I must be off. I have to start on my rounds, and  
  
Mistress Proudfoot just broke her ankle yesterday tripping over her  
  
poodle, so I have to see to that."  
  
Frodo burst into giggles.  
  
"Frodo!" Bilbo gasped. "That was not funny."  
  
"I'm sorry, but the idea of anyone tripping over a poodle is  
  
funny." Frodo sniggered.  
  
Dr. Burrows chuckled as well, before ruffling his young  
  
patient's hair. "Let me know if you have any problems. I would advise  
  
that you get plenty of rest but still, continue your old routine as  
  
you normally wood. Keep reminding yourself that allergies are NOT  
  
life-threatening. Good day." He put on his hat and took his book,  
  
briefcase and bag of allergants out of Bag-End. When the healer was  
  
gone, Bilbo gave Frodo another big bear hug.  
  
"Thank goodness you're all right, Frodo my dear. We can get  
  
through your allergies with no trouble."  
  
Frodo nodded. "I think I can manage. But I'd like to sleep--I'm  
  
exhausted."  
  
"Of course. Would you like anything for second breakfast? I was  
  
so worried about you that I almost forgot about eating!"  
  
"So did I!" Frodo cried. "I'd like some oat meal with honey and  
  
jam swirled in and toast with butter and cinammon."  
  
Bilbo grinned, very pleased. "Then you shall have just that,  
  
cricket." With a final kiss, the old hobbit headed for the kitchen. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 Exhaustion  
  
"Frodo, lad-I'm going to the market. Would you like to come with me?" Bilbo asked as he walked into his nephew's bedroom. The tweenager was sound asleep with his book on his stomach, and Bilbo had to smile. "All right. I'll just leave you a note. Shouldn't be long." Bilbo took a spare piece of parchment off of Frodo's desk and scribbled a quick note to let the lad know where he was going, and then headed off to town.  
  
It was such a beautiful early summer day in the Shire, and all Bilbo longed to do was to take Frodo and go adventuring anywhere but. Given the healer's diagnosis, Bilbo had a feeling that many of the things he liked to do with the lad during the summer would be limited. He passed by Farmer Maggot's field and over the bridge that faced the Green Dragon Inn, and then finally reached the path that led to the marketplace. Hobbiton was a busy area, but there really were not many hobbits Frodo's age. It was more of an elderly residence and there were a few random tweenagers.  
  
"Good afternoon Bilbo." Ruby Proudfoot greeted him as he entered the main street.  
  
"Good afternoon, Ruby. How are you doing?"  
  
"Wonderful. How is Frodo?"  
  
Ruby was one of Frodo's closer female friends. He'd never taken a serious romantic interest in lasses, which did not surprise Bilbo at all.  
  
"The lad could be better. I just found out he has terrible allergies this time of the year and he's tuckered out."  
  
Ruby frowned. "Perhaps I'll stop by and see him later today. Would he like that?" she asked.  
  
"I'm sure he would. Well-I need to stop in the apothecary and pick up a few things and I have to run to the general store as well. I'll see you later then." Bilbo tipped his hat in respect and Ruby waved as she continued picking out a few bushels of flowers her mother had sent her to retrieve.  
  
Bilbo entered the apothecary and was hit with the strong smell of herbs and spices. There were bottles of every shape and size lining the shelves behind the counter and the shelves of other medical devices seemed never-ending. "Good afternoon, Master Baggins. Let me guess-your nephew is ill again?"  
  
Bilbo raised an eyebrow at the herbalist. "Actually he is and he isn't," Bilbo replied.  
  
"He is and he isn't? That's a queer statement."  
  
The Hobbiton herbalist was Mobo Goodworthy, and he was rather old- about three years older than Bilbo.  
  
"Well-the poor thing's been sneezing constantly for the past three days and hasn't had a fever or any other symptons linked to a cold. So I sent for Dr. Burrows who diagnosed it as hay fever, and Frodo is terribly allergic to pollen."  
  
Mr. Goodworthy frowned. "I see. That is a shame. So I am guessing you are picking up some extra pocket handkerchiefs with his initials on them again?"  
  
Bilbo laughed. "Yes. I need to keep Bag-End plenty stocked on that type of thing. Also, do you have any herbs that might ease his conjestion? I hate to see the dear boy suffer like that. If he can be helped, then I'll see to whatever needs to be done."  
  
Mr. Goodworthy bit his lip and went into his back stockroom to pull out a few boxes of herb packets.  
  
"Herbal steam baths you mean?" He asked.  
  
"I believe so."  
  
"Let me see what I have." The herbalist sifted through his packets and pulled out rosemary, lavender and eucalyptus. "Dr. Burrows was correct when he told you there is no cure for hay fever." He told Bilbo, who was glancing at some of the handkerchiefs for sale. "But there are some things that can ease the symptons to a degree. These are the three scents I picked out that have been the most popular for sinus conjestion. I would recommend eucalyptus, as it is one of the stronger smells. However, if you know which one Frodo preferrs, I would recommend that one."  
  
Bilbo smelled each of the packets of herbs to test them for himself. "Frodo would enjoy the Lavender, as I use lavender soap at home for his baths."  
  
Mr. Goodworthy chuckled. "Good choice. So have you decided on a design of handkerchief you'd like for him?"  
  
"This lovely one with the blue trim. It woud match his eyes. Not that it matters too much."  
  
"Yes. And you wanted his initials right there the last time?" Mr. Goodworthy pointed to the lower righthand corner and Bilbo nodded.  
  
"Yes, thank you. And I am also going to stock up on my tea selection. I think that should be it."  
  
"Very well."  
  
Bilbo waited patiently while the handkerchiefs were made, and wondered whether he should skip going to the General store and just head for home.  
  
  
  
Back at Bag-End, Frodo opened his itchy eyes and gazed around his bedroom. He had no idea Frodo had gone to the market, but he wouldn't have cared either way. Just being in bed felt so wonderful, but he did feel rather lazy, and wanted to go outside ever so badly.  
  
He heard the clippers of Hamfast Gamgee outside of his window, and decided to take a little risk and open it to say hello to Sam. He took his desk chair and stood on it, unlatching the window and pulling it open so he could peer down. Sure enough, Hamfast was trimming the rose bushes and Sam was planting something in the herb garden.  
  
"Da', this is how they go, right?" Sam asked, looking over his shoulder. When he did so, he noticed Frodo watching him from the window and grinned.  
  
"Hello, Mr. Frodo! Won't you come outside? 'Tis a beautiful day."  
  
Mr. Gamgee looked towards the window and waved a hand at the heir to Bag-End.  
  
"I can't." He replied sadly.  
  
"Why not? Are you ill?" asked Sam, abandoning his work and going to stand closer to the window. "Da'-can you move the bench over here? I'm too little and I feel stupid bein' all the way down here."  
  
Hamfast laughed and did as his son asked, smiling as the little lad climbed up so he was eye-level with Frodo.  
  
"I'm not ill exactly. I'm allergic to flowers-they make me sneeze." Frodo explained.  
  
"Oh dear-that's not good."  
  
"Begging your pardon, sir-if they make you sneeze, then why are you peering out the window?" Hamfast asked. "And into the garden nonetheless?"  
  
"It's lonely here. I think Bilbo went to the market."  
  
"I see."  
  
Frodo wiped his suddenly runny nose with the corner of his sleeve. "So what are you working on today, Sam?"  
  
"I'm planting some onions. They smell awful bad."  
  
Frodo laughed, but felt the familiar prickling in his nose and covered it with his hand. He sneezed so loudly that poor Sam nearly jumped two feet into the air. "They're starting up again." He sniffled, sneezing again. "I'm sorry, Sam, but I'll have to see you later. I can't handle this." He shut the window and stepped down from the chair, going to lay face down on his bed till the sneezing fit ended.  
  
About ten minutes later, Bilbo returned with a small shopping bag in one hand. "Hullo my boy. Oh Frodo." He gasped when his nephew lifted his head, revealing red, runny eyes and his nose wasn't any different.  
  
"I wanted to say hello to Sam, but I made a stupid mistake and opened the window. Now I can't stop sneezing." Frodo sobbed. Bilbo set down the shopping bag and sat down next to Frodo on the bed, allowing the tweenager to rest his head against his shoulder, and rubbed Frodo's back with his hand till he relaxed again.  
  
"I've bought you a few things at the apothecary, my boy. New handkerchiefs and some strong herbs to ease that stuffy nose."  
  
Sniffling noisily, Frodo nodded. "I feel awful, Bilbo." He whimpered.  
  
"I know you do, honeypot. Just lay down now and try to relax, while I put things in order."  
  
Frodo got under the covers and rested his head on his fluffy pillow, watching his Uncle bring the shopping bag to the kitchen. He reached for one of his many handkerchiefs from the small box on his nightstand and blew his nose. Even this simple process became exhausting after a while, and he was half-tempted to chop his nose off if it would help.  
  
When Bilbo returned to the room, he had a mug of rosemary tea and toast with fresh butter and strawberry jam on a tray. "Here is your snack for tea time." He explained. "The toast is cut into those perfect triangles you like."  
  
Frodo laughed with delight as Bilbo set the tray down on his lap. "Now lad-I know you feel rotten, but Dr. Burrows said to continue with your normal routine. So how about a little nighttime hike through the Shire tonight, eh?"  
  
Frodo's eyes lit up and he nodded, as it would be rude to speak with a mouthful of toast. When he swallowed, he asked: "Where will we go?"  
  
"We could go to the lake. It is beautiful when the moonlight shines down on it."  
  
Frodo smiled. "Could we possibly camp?" he asked. "I love to sleep outside."  
  
"Now Frodo-I'm not sure if that would be wise with your allergies."  
  
"Oh bother allergies. I'll be fine." Frodo insisted. "Maybe I just need something to keep my mind off of sneezing. When will we leave?"  
  
Bilbo laughed. "Right after supper. It gets dark around 9:00 now so how about 9:30?"  
  
"Sounds wonderful, Uncle Bilbo. I always love hiking with you."  
  
Bilbo gave him a hug. "I'm glad, lad. It is nice to have someone to talk to when I walk." He planted a kiss on Frodo's head. "I'll get our camping supplies ready. You just sit and eat your snack till I'm finished, all right?"  
  
Frodo nodded again and watched as his Uncle headed out of the room. 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
"Frodo my lad-hurry up!" Bilbo called to his nephew from the front hallway around 9:30 that night. The night promised to be perfectly clear and they would have a lovely time hiking under the stars. Frodo rushed to meet Bilbo, quickly buttoning the last button of his shirt as he did so.  
  
"Sorry, Uncle Bilbo. I'm a bit slow today."  
  
Bilbo ruffled Frodo's dark curls with a chuckle. "Nonsense. You have a right to be, cricket. Now do you have everything you need in these packs?"  
  
Frodo nodded. "Extra clothes, hairbrush, canteen, some food and a bunch of pocket handkerchiefs."  
  
"Good. Let's go, then, shall we? We don't want to waste the night away chatting in the hall." Bilbo opened the large green door and stepped outside into the cool but stuffy night air. The smell from the flowers was overwhelming, even in the dark and Frodo had to fight the urge to sneeze if he wanted to continue the hike. Once the door was shut again and locked, the two cousins headed out through the main gate and turned left down the dirt path. For almost ten minutes neither of them spoke, but they did not need to.  
  
"Listen to those crickets," Frodo whispered. "It's so peaceful out here."  
  
Bilbo smiled. "Yes it is, my boy."  
  
"Was it this nice when you went on that adventure? At night I mean?"  
  
"Not all the time. Certain nights it rained buckets and the dwarves and I had to fight just to stay properly dry. But yes, certain nights it was rather beautiful."  
  
They began to cross a large field that rose and fell with hills. When Frodo started to lag behind, Bilbo would stop and turn and wait patiently for his nephew to catch up. "Having a bit of trouble breathing, Uncle." Frodo gasped.  
  
"Just walk slowly then, and to relax your muscles," Bilbo encouraged. But when he heard Frodo's wheezing, he decided to take a break and sit down to let the tweenager rest a bit. "We'll just sit here for a few moments, lad, till you're breathing easier." They were standing on the middle of the bridge that faced the Green Dragon Inn and sat down on the edge of it. Taking a gulp of air, Frodo leaned his head against Bilbo's shoulder, feeling so desparately tired.  
  
"M' sorry, Bilbo." Frodo apologized quietly. "Stupid allergies. Why does all of the bad stuff have to happen to me?"  
  
Bilbo gave Frodo a big hug. "Not all bad things happen to you, Frodo."  
  
"B-but I'm always getting sick. I don't see Merry or Pippin getting as ill as I do."  
  
"You do seem to have a rather rough time with illnesses, lad, but you are tough at the core. Now come on-let's continue. We only have a good half hour walk till we reach our camping site and them I'm sure you want to listen to campfire tales and roast marshmallows?"  
  
Frodo grinned. "Can you carry me, Uncle? For a bit of the way?"  
  
"I suppose." Bilbo lifted the tweenager into his arms and they crossed the bridge to the other side. Frodo leaned against Bilbo's shoulder and watched as fireflies blinked on and off throughout the grass. Frodo had a hard time believing that he slept through all of this on a regular basis, and almost wished he could play outside at night rather than during the day. But then again, at Brandy Hall he had been frightened by stories of dangerous beasts that romped through the Shire in the darkness from his older cousins. He never forgot the time Mellilot dressed up as a wolf and scared the living daylights out of him when he had been sitting in the yard on Midsummer's eve. Mellilot had been punished for doing so, though.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts, Frodo." Bilbo chuckled.  
  
"Huh?" Frodo asked as the old hobbit finally set him back down on the ground.  
  
"You were awfully quiet. Either you had fallen asleep on me or you were in deep thinking."  
  
Frodo smiled. "Nothing-just thinking about the dark."  
  
"The dark, eh? Not afraid, are you?" Bilbo asked with concern.  
  
"No. I mean-I was when I was younger, but now that I'm with you- things don't seem so scary anymore."  
  
Bilbo nearly choked on tears. Suddenly, without warning, the ground gave way to an unexpected hill and he let out a cry.  
  
"BILBO!" Frodo shouted, watching as his Uncle hit the ground, a sickening CRACK filling the air. "BILBO!" Frodo found his footing and made his way down to his Uncle, who lay on his side, his one arm reaching for his leg.  
  
"Frodo." Bilbo gasped. "I think I've broken something." He struggled to sit up but grimaced and had to lay back down again. Frodo knelt down in the mud and grime and saw that the leg Bilbo had been reaching for was twisted in a very strange ankle, and immediately felt a wave of nausea go over him.  
  
"You're hurt. Oh Bilbo-I'm so sorry."  
  
Bilbo smiled weakly up at his nephew. "You have to get help, lad. Run to the nearest smial."  
  
"But I can't," Frodo sobbed.  
  
"Frodo-don't be afraid. I'll be all right here, I promise. Just go- now."  
  
Without a second thought, Frodo quickly scrambled up the hill and hurried for the nearest hobbit hole. About halfway there, he felt his lungs start to tighten and his nose clog up. "Can't-make it." He said, falling to his knees. Then a voice spoke inside of his head.  
  
'Your Uncle needs you, Frodo. Don't give up now. You can do it.'  
  
That seemed to encourage the tweenager, who got to his feet again, but still felt incredibly weak. He reached the first homely house and raised a fist, prepared to knock on the door. 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Comfort  
  
Frodo knocked on the door three times and stepped back, taking a deep, shaky breath. He heard the sound of footseps and then the door being unlocked and the large, round wooden structure opened. A female hobbit stood in the doorway with golden hair and blue eyes, and she had on a nightgown.  
  
"May I help you?" she asked kindly.  
  
"Yes-I'm so sorry to have woken you up or anything, but my Uncle and I were on a hike and he fell down a hill and I think he broke his leg." Frodo spoke so quickly that the girl smiled.  
  
"Calm down, honey. Take a deep breath and start over-slowly this time."  
  
Frodo felt his cheeks burning with embarassment. "My Uncle's hurt," he repeated. "We were hiking and he fell down a hill and I think his leg's broken."  
  
"All right-let me get my father and we'll see what we can do."  
  
Frodo watched as the girl hurried into the smial calling "Papa! Papa!"  
  
"Yes Estella?"  
  
"There is a lad outside who is in a fix, and he's asking for help."  
  
"I'll be right there in a minute."  
  
Frodo stepped back as a male hobbit appeared. He was very large and had on a pair of brown breeches and a white cotton shirt. His thick, curly blonde hair was plastered against his head as a result of the humidity.  
  
"Hullo." He greeted. "What is your name?"  
  
"Frodo Baggins."  
  
"Baggins, eh? Not Bilbo Baggins' nephew?"  
  
"Yes. He's hurt and we need your help."  
  
"Let me fetch my medical kit and then you can lead me to where he is, all right lad? I am Milow Chubb by the way. Pleasure to meet you, young Master." He hurried back into the smial again and returned with his medical kit. "Lead me to your Uncle, lad. We'll see what we can do."  
  
Frodo felt so proud of himself at the moment as he led Mr. Chubb to where Bilbo lay, and when they reached the area, Bilbo lifted his head, relieved.  
  
"Oh thank goodness." He gasped.  
  
"Just try to relax, sir. Can you move your right leg at all?"  
  
Bilbo attempted to, but cried out. "No-it hurts when I try."  
  
Frodo stroked Bilbo's forehead, which was covered in beads of sweat, and watched as Mr. Chubb turned the old hobbit onto his back. "I know it hurts, but I'll have to bandage it up. Frodo-could you run back to my smial and ask Estella-the girl whom you met-to drive my carriage here so I can bring you both home?"  
  
Frodo nodded. "I'll be right back." He quickly scrambled up the hill again, bolting for the smial, practically falling at the door when he reached it. Estella opened the door again and saw the tweenger on all fours, gasping for air.  
  
"Frodo? Are you all right?" She asked with alarm.  
  
"Fine-I can manage. Need-need the carriage."  
  
"Here-let me help you." Estella supported Frodo by putting one of his arms around her shoulders. "Walk slowly now-one step at a time. The carriage is just over there-see? The pretty white pony?"  
  
"Very pretty," Frodo choked.  
  
"There we go." Estella helped Frodo climb into the front passanger seat of the carriage and climbed into the driver's section, taking hold of the reins. "Ya!" She shouted and the horse immediately started trotting away.  
  
"This is awful-we were supposed to have a good time camping tonight," Frodo sobbed. "But my Uncle's hurt-and I'm not feeling too well myself. Nothing is going our way at all this week."  
  
Estella smiled. "Oh-we all have our bad times. But we can get through them. We're hobbits after all, aren't we?" She winked at him and he had to grin at that comment.  
  
"What's the pony's name?" Frodo asked curiously, trying to start a more pleasant conversation.  
  
"Snowbell." Estella replied. "She's one of our best. We have two-the other is Tuck."  
  
"Tuck-unusual name for a pony." Frodo chuckled. When they reached the hill, Estella stopped the carriage right at the edge of it and peered down. Her father was quickly bandaging Bilbo's leg and soon had the old hobbit to his feet.  
  
"There we are. Lean on me-Not too quickly, now."  
  
Frodo watched anxiously as his Uncle struggled to limp up the hill and was finally relieved when he was in the carriage.  
  
"Thank you so much, Mr. Chubb. I do appreciate this." Bilbo told Milow.  
  
"You're welcome. Not every day we get to rescue such a famous gentlehobbit as yourself."  
  
Bilbo blushed but gritted his teeth as the carriage began moving again. Estella drove it all the way to Bag-End, and though Frodo was disappointed to be back home so soon, he knew it was the best place for both himself and his Uncle at the moment.  
  
"We'll fetch the healer in the morning, when Hamfast comes to work on the garden," Bilbo grunted as Mr. Chubb helped him into bed. "All right, Frodo?"  
  
"Shouldn't we fetch him now, Uncle? You're going to be in a lot of pain tonight."  
  
"The lad's right, sir. A broken ankle is no laughing matter."  
  
"Just a bit of ice on it and I should be fine. I've been through quite a bit in my lifetime," Bilbo chortled. "Again-thank you-both."  
  
"You're welcome again. I'll see you again sometime, Mr. Bilbo." Milow Chubb tipped his hat and his daughter Estella curtsied, waving to Frodo who was blushing so badly that he looked like a cherry. When the Chubbs left, Frodo let out a long sigh as he sunk into the chair of his Uncle's desk.  
  
"Lad-you were so very brave tonight. I am very very proud of you." Bilbo told Frodo weakly.  
  
"I only did what any other hobbit would have done." Frodo replied. "Bilbo-do you want me to sit up with you? You've always done so for me when I've been unwell."  
  
Bilbo shook his head. "No, lad. Go on to bed and rest-seems you had a bit of an asthma attack in the carriage on the way to fetch me, and I'm a bit concerned for you."  
  
Frodo quickly enveloped Bilbo in a tight hug. "I love you, Uncle Bilbo. I'm so glad you're all right."  
  
Bilbo kissed him on the cheek. "I love you too. Now off with you." Bilbo shooed him off to his bedroom. 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9  
  
Unfortunately, Frodo had been correct in his assumptions for   
Bilbo was in quite a bit of pain throughout the night. His broken   
ankle ached so much that he nearly cried, and he had to admit he was   
grateful when Frodo snuck into his room a few hours after leaving it.   
  
"What are you doing up, Frodo my lad?" Bilbo asked weakly.   
  
"I think I'll stay with you tonight, Uncle Bilbo. In case you   
need help since your foot's broken."  
  
"Ankle, lad. And anyway—I can—manage." He tried to surpress a   
gasp of pain.   
  
"I'll get you some ice. We really should have contacted the   
healer tonight." Frodo sniffled, wiping his itchy nose with his   
sleeve as he headed out of the room and to the kitchen. He got a   
towel and some pieces of ice from the ice chest and brought both   
items to his Uncle.   
  
"That was very thoughtful, cricket. Thank you." Bilbo praised   
as his nephew rolled the blanket up, revealing the bandaged foot.   
Once the ice was securely in place, he climbed into bed with Bilbo   
and snuggled up to the old hobbit.   
  
"I'll be here if you need me. What if I have breathing   
trouble and you can't get to me?"  
  
"Let's hope you don't. Are you warm enough? I'm not hogging   
all of the covers, am I?" Bilbo teased. (This is not a slashy scene.   
Frodo is a snuggler ;) don't we all wish he could snuggle with   
us?) "Now close your eyes, love. I'll reach over and put out the   
lamp. Bilbo blew the candle out and then settled into a comfortable-  
enough position so he could try and fall asleep.   
  
About ten minutes later: *ZZZZZZZZ* Bilbo's brown eyes   
snapped open at the horrid noise that just errupted. *ZZZZZZZ* He   
glanced over at Frodo and realized that the younger hobbit was   
snoring—clearly from the nasal conjestion. `I'm NEVER going to get   
any sleep.' He thought miserably. First his aching foot and then   
Frodo's snoring. He nudged Frodo a bit, whispring "Lad."  
  
"Mrrrrph." Frodo mumbled, but continued sleeping. *ZZZZZZZ*  
  
"Frodo—wake up." Bilbo rustled the tweenager a bit rougher   
and Frodo blinked his blue eyes open.   
  
"Whazzat?" He asked. "Huh?"  
  
"You were snoring."  
  
Frodo raised an eyebrow. "Sorry." Then he immediately fell   
back to sleep again. Chuckling, Bilbo planted a kiss on his nephew's   
head and attempted to turn over on his other side, but grimaced as   
pain shot through his broken ankle again. Even if they had fetched   
the healar that night, his ankle would have still been painful, for   
there was the horrid process of resetting the broken bone and the   
agony of that torture lasted for hours. He would probably have to   
limp on crutches for a few weeks till the ankle healed and even   
afterwards, for he would need to regain strength to the bone. Frodo   
suddenly awoke with a violent sneeze.   
  
"Ugh." He mumbled miserably. "Is the window open?" He asked,   
sneezing again.   
  
Bilbo looked over and noticed that the window was in deed   
open a crack. "I'm sorry, Frodo—it is."  
  
In the midst of his sneezing fit, Frodo managed to climb out   
of bed and make his way towards the window to shut it. "I'm sorry."   
The tweenager gasped.   
  
"Nothing to be sorry bout, honey. Deep breaths now—that's it.   
In—out. In—out."  
  
"I'm so tired, Bilbo, but I can't seem to fall asleep." Frodo   
sighed. "I can barely breathe through my nose."  
  
"I can tell. I've never noticed that you snored before."  
  
"Neither did I. Bilbo—could you sing to me or something? It   
usually puts me to sleep."  
  
"I'll see what I can come up with. I would get a book and   
read to you, but I can barely turn over without this blasted ankle   
aching. Let's see now." He allowed Frodo to lay his head on his chest   
as he searched through his head for any melodies that he often sung   
as lullabye's to Frodo. "How about: There was a man who dwelt alone,   
as day and night went past, he sat as still as carven stone, and yet   
no shadow cast. The white owls perched upon his head, beneath the   
winter moon; they wiped t heir beaks and thought him dead under the   
stars of June. There came a lady clad in grey, in the twilight   
shining; one moment sh would stand and stay, her hair with flowers   
entwining. He woke as had he sprung of stone, and broke the spell   
that bound him; he clasped her fast, both flesh and bones, and   
wrapped her shadow round him. There never more she walks her ways by   
sun or moon or star; she dwells below where neither days, nor any   
nights there are……"  
  
Bilbo paused just to check on Frodo's sleeping-process, and   
was pleased to see that the lad was drifting off. Very slowly and   
carefully, Bilbo eased the boy up and rested him down on the   
mattress, smiling as Frodo sunk under the covers and let out a small   
sigh of content. Just as a bit of a treat, Bilbo continued the   
song: "There never more she walks her ways, by sun or moon or star;   
she dwells below where neither days, nor any nights there are. But   
once a year when caverns yawn and hidden things awake, they dance   
together then till dawn, and a single shadow make."  
  
(This excerpt is from the poem "Shadow Bride" by J.R.R. Tolkien. As   
usual, it can be found in "The Tolkien Reader". If you guys don't   
have this, definitely think about getting it because it has a lot of   
great stories in there.) 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10  
  
Frodo awoke when the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, warming his face. He soon became aware that someone was knocking on the front door, and, yawning, slid out of his Uncle's bed and onto the floor. "Probably Mr. Gamgee," he mumbled to himself as he shuffled towards the front hall. He heard the sound of the door being unlocked and then jumped when it opened.  
  
"Ah-good mornin' little master. I was gettin' a bit worried when you weren' answerin'." Sure enough, Hamfast stood in the doorway with a pleasant smile on his face. "Do you need anythin' from the market? Bell wants me to stop and pick up a few things."  
  
Frodo glanced over his shoulder as a loud sneeze errupted. "I'm sorry- just my allergies. Um-actually, could you go and fetch the healer? Bilbo broke his ankle last night when we were hiking and we were too exhausted to fetch you then."  
  
Hamfast's eyes widened in surprise. "Bilbo's hurt? You shouldn't have waited so long with somethin' like that. I'll fetch Dr. Burrows right away, sir. Just keep Bilbo calm till I get back." The gardener tipped his hat and hurried down the lane. Frodo sneezed so hard after he closed the door that the small hallway table seemed to tremble. He wiped his nose with the corner of his pajama sleeve as he headed back to Bilbo's room, to find the older hobbit awake.  
  
"Good morning, Frodo. Who was at the door?" Bilbo asked, struggling to lean up against the headboard.  
  
"Mr. Gamgee. He went to fetch the healer and shouldn't be more than an hour or so."  
  
"Are your allergies bothering you again? I heard you sneezing."  
  
Frodo nodded as he continued sniffling. "Each sneeze gets harsher and harsher, Bilbo. I think I might blow something over at one point."  
  
Bilbo laughed. "Well-when you blow over a vase like I did when I had that cold, then we'll start to worry. I'll have to glue my furniture to the floor."  
  
"Why do we sneeze so hard?" Frodo asked as he crawled up to sit on Bilbo's bed. The old hobbit gave his nephew a sympathetic smile.  
  
"One of the many mysteries out there, my boy." Bilbo yawned and glanced out the window. The upcoming day promised to be beautiful-warm and sunny, and here he was with a broken ankle and most likely unable to go out until the healer provided him with crutches.  
  
"Would you like some breakfast, Bilbo? I can make you some toast and jam and tea. I'm not too good with baking."  
  
"How about slicing some of that ginger bread for the both of us? That would be just fine. And tea would be lovely too-you can choose whatever flavor you want, all right? But do I get my morning kiss?" he added with a twinkle in his eye, and Frodo smiled, planting one on his Uncle's cheek before hurrying into the kitchen. It was strange not having the smell of bacon and eggs drifting through the corridors, but Frodo was too afraid that he'd burn the smial down if he tried cooking without Bilbo's instruction. So he took Bilbo's advice and sliced two thick pieces of the still-fresh gingerbread and put it on plates, surrounding that with strawberries and grapes. Then he filled the old iron teapot with water, set that on the stove and pulled the box of tealeaves down from the pantry.  
  
"Cherry tea sounds good." Frodo said, grinning. He grabbed two mugs and stood keeping a close eye on the teapot, waiting for it to whistle. When it did, he turned off the stove and lifted the kettle.  
  
"Looks like you're doing a marvelous job, Frodo Baggins." A voice spoke from behind him. Frodo screamed, throwing the kettle clear into the air and watched in horror as it aimed for the floor.  
  
The intruder caught it with one hand and handed it back to the hobbit.  
  
"Gandalf?" Frodo cried. Gandalf the Gray was a famous traveling wizard and was close friends with Bilbo. Gandalf had urged Bilbo to go on a grand adventure with a group of thirteen dwarves fifty years before to uncover gold from the cave of the dragon Smaug. Unfortunately, many of the local hobbits felt that Gandalf was a "Disturber of the peace" and often said that "If he'd let those poor hobbits alone, they may one day be respectable."  
  
"Yes. I was in the area so I decided to stop by. My you've grown since the last time I saw you."  
  
"Which was when I was ill." Frodo replied. He hadn't seen the old wizard for nearly two years following his bout with pneumonia, which nearly killed him. That, he figured, was the main reason Bilbo became so overprotective.  
  
"How are you feeling, lad? You still look too pale for a hobbit."  
  
"I have allergies now and I can't seem to stop sne.." He covered his mouth with one hand and once again sneezed. "Sneezing." He finished.  
  
"You never get a break, do you?" Gandalf chortled.  
  
Frodo shook his head. "I'm sorry, Gandalf. Oh-thank you." He accepted the teakettle and began filling the mugs. "Bilbo's hurt. He broke his ankle when we went on a hike the other night, and we're waiting for the healer to arrive so he can reset the bone."  
  
Gandalf raised his bushy gray eyebrows. "I say-I do hope he is not suffering too badly! Is he in his bedroom?"  
  
"Yes. And I've been taking good care of him." Frodo handed one plate of food and one mug of tea to Gandalf so that he didn't have to balance both breakfasts to Bilbo's room.  
  
"Gandalf! Isn't this a pleasant surprise!" The old hobbit cried with delight as he saw the guest. "When did you come in?"  
  
"Nearly startled the daylights out of me a few moments ago," Frodo replied, handing Bilbo his breakfast.  
  
"Thank you, honeypot." Bilbo told his nephew. "Have a seat, Gandalf. I suppose Frodo told you what happened?"  
  
"He did. Are you all right?"  
  
"I'll live, but it feels as though I won't."  
  
The wizard smiled. "Oh, Frodo-I brought you a little present from my travels."  
  
Frodo beamed as he watched the wizard pull something from the pocket of his blue robes and handed the wrapped object to the lad. "Thank you!"  
  
"Open it," Bilbo chuckled. "Don't just look at it."  
  
Smiling, Frodo took off the brown wrapping and gasped. In his hands he held a snowglobe with the Rivendell setting in the center. "It's beautiful," He said. "I do wish I could go and see the Elves one day."  
  
"That's not all, Frodo-on the bottom there is a little wind up button."  
  
Frodo noticed it and cranked it a few times, and a soft, calming melody began to play. (For those who saw TUCK EVERLASTING it is the melody that Jesse's mother's music box plays) He felt a bit sleepy when he listened to it, and blinked when it ended. "I love it very much, Gandalf." Frodo gave the wizard a big hug.  
  
A few moments later there was another few knocks on the door, and Frodo stood. "I'll get it-probably Dr. Burrows."  
  
Bilbo sighed. "Time to face torture." He mumbled as he watched his nephew go to let the healer in. Sure enough, it was Dr. Burrows and the healer was very surprised to see Gandalf.  
  
"Good day, sir!" He greeted.  
  
"Good day to you as well." Gandalf replied laughing.  
  
"Now Bilbo, this may hurt a bit, but it must be done. I have to reset the bone that you snapped."  
  
Bilbo nodded and gritted his teeth in pain when the healer uncovered his injured leg and inspeected the bandage work. Frodo felt a bit ill when the bandages were removed and found that Bilbo's ankle had swollen dreadfully and was black and blue. "Don't look, Frodo, if you don't wish to." The healer warned. "You may leave the room if you'd like."  
  
Frodo glanced at Bilbo who just smiled weakly at him. "Go on, cricket. I don't want you to have to see this. Go and talk with Gandalf in the living room and AIE!" He cried out when Dr. Burrows attempted to straighten the ankle. "Go Frodo." Bilbo gasped, and the tweenager led Gandalf into the parlor. The two sat on the large, overstuffed couch and just gazed ahead as they heard Bilbo's muffled sobs. Finally there was a loud SNAP and a shout. "Bilbo!" Frodo cried, and made to run to his Uncle, but Gandalf held the boy firmly still.  
  
"Let the healer do his job, Frodo. Re-setting bones is nasty business."  
  
"But Dr. Burrows is hurting him!" Frodo sobbed.  
  
"Calm down, lad." Gandalf encouraged, not liking the sound of Frodo's raspy breathing. The hobbit coughed and took a few deep breaths, starting to feel the familiar tightness in his chest. "Just take a deep breath and try to relax. Through your nose and out your mouth. There you go." Gandalf praised when Frodo's breathing softened. Eventually the healer returned to the parlor with a smile.  
  
"The bone is reset, and I've wrapped it very tight with very thick bandages. Frodo-I am going to have to ask you to aid Bilbo in daily chores for the next few weeks while the ankle heals. He'll be on crutches for about two weeks and then for the third week he'll need to work slowly on getting it back into shape again."  
  
Frodo nodded. "Is he going to be in a lot of pain?" He asked.  
  
"A bit, Frodo. Broken bones are nasty things, but at least they're not life-threatening unless you're stuck out in the wild."  
  
"Well thank you very much." Frodo added.  
  
"I'm not finished, lad. Bilbo tells me you've been having trouble breathing because of your allergies lately, that you've been feeling tighteness in your chest whenever you feel scared or run. Is that true?"  
  
Frodo nodded. "I just felt it a moment ago when I thought you were hurting Bilbo. It feels like something is squeezing my lungs."  
  
"Those are symptoms of asthma, Frodo. Asthma is often a symptom of hay fever and can be either mild or serious. All I can recommend for you to do is to take it easy for the summer seasons and spring seasons, when your allergies are worse. Use herbal steambaths to ease your breathing and drink plenty of fluids. I would not recommend running around outside, especially since the pollen rate is rather high this time of the year."  
  
Frodo looked as though his birthday had been canceled at the idea of his not being able to run around with his friends and cousins during the best seasons for doing so. The healer noticed this, and patted the lad on the head. "Oh come now. Surely you and your friends can find things to do that are not strenuous?"  
  
Frodo shrugged as he felt a single tear fall down his pale cheek, and allowed Gandalf to pat him on the shoulder. "It's not so bad now, Frodo my lad. I'm sure Bilbo will find plenty of exciting things for you to do."  
  
Frodo sniffed and continued to stare at his feet.  
  
"I'll tell you what. I'll provide you with a lovely scent for your herbal baths. How does cinnamon sound?" Dr. Burrows asked, as he dug through his leather case and pulled out a packet of cinnamon spice. Frodo smiled weakly.  
  
"Sounds fine I suppose."  
  
"You'll feel better soon, Frodo. And just keep telling yourself that it is not a life-threatening illness. Well-I've given Bilbo a few painkillers but he will be rather groggy for a bit, so I would let him sleep a while. Keep applying ice to the ankle, to stop the swelling. Well- I'd best be off. Here is the cinnamon-plenty of it for you. Good afternoon."  
  
"Good afternoon," Frodo and Gandalf replied in unison and watched as the healer left Bag-End. Frodo stood after the door shut behind Dr. Burrows and headed into Bilbo's room.  
  
"Hullo, Frodo." Bilbo told his nephew quietly.  
  
Frodo didn't respond-he just fell into his Uncle's arms and cried. 


	11. Chapter 11

Bilbo was so miserable for the next few days. The pain medication the   
healer had prescribed made the old hobbit very sleepy and rather   
grumpy, but Frodo did not find this out for a bit.   
  
The tweenager wasn't much better. He was often cooped up   
indoors with Gandalf or his books for company. The wizard often   
caught Frodo gazing through the closed window of his bedroom,   
watching Sam and Hamfast conquer their daily chores.   
  
Frodo would feel Gandalf's prescence and turn around, only to   
find himself staring at a large, leatherbound book. "While you're   
indoors you might as well make good use of your time," The wizard   
told him. Out of protest, Frodo would snatch the book and throw it   
down on the floor before storming off.   
  
"He's so depressed, Bilbo." The wizard told the old hobbit one   
particularly stuffy early August morning. "Perhaps I should humor him   
and take him on an outing."  
  
What Gandalf didn't know was that Frodo stood in the doorway   
listening.   
  
Bilbo nodded. "That would be all right. Im feeling rather ill   
today and would just like to sleep. It's this dratted medicine." He   
yawned loudly.   
  
"Will you be all right alone?" Gandalf asked.   
  
Frodo grinned and scampered away to get his things ready. His   
two elders glanced at each other as they heard his footsteps   
scurrying down the corridor and raised their eyebrows.   
  
"Eavesdropping, eh?" Gandalf chortled.   
  
It was Bilbo's turn to laugh when he heard Frodo sneeze loudly   
from his bedroom. "Take good care of Frodo, Gandalf. Don't let him   
out of your sight."  
  
Frodo eventually came back into his Uncle's room with his   
playclothes on and his pack ready. "I'm ready to go, Gandalf." He   
announced.   
  
Gandalf winked at Bilbo before turning to face Frodo with a very   
serious expression. "Who said we were going anywhere?"  
  
Frodo's face fell and his pack also fell to the floor. "You   
did." He replied quietly.   
  
"When did I tell you that?"  
  
Frodo blushed. "Well--I--er--overheard you talking with Bilbo.   
I would really like to go out, Gandalf. I hate being cooped up all   
day."  
  
The wizard nodded. "I see. Eavesdropping is not a good habbit,   
Frodo. It could be perilous at times you know."  
  
Frodo nodded. "I won't do it again."  
  
"Yes, we are going out, lad, but I think the best place to visit   
for now is the town. You are not strong enough to go romping all over   
the countryside."  
  
Frodo glanced at Bilbo who nodded. "You heard what the healer   
told you, my boy. Your allergies can't handle a lot of physical   
activity. But you can do a bit of shopping for yourself if you'd   
like."  
  
"All right." Frodo complied. He figured going into town was   
better than not going out at all, though he was still disappointed.   
  
"Give me a hug, lad." Bilbo encouraged and his nephew embraced   
him in a tight hug.   
  
"You feel a bit warm, Bilbo." Frodo told his uncle with concern.   
  
"I'm all right. Go and have a good time." Bilbo shooed both of   
them away.   
  
Once outside, Frodo hopped around and took in a deep breath of   
the sweet air, though it nearly choked him.   
  
"Relax, Frodo." Gandalf laughed. "I know you're excited about   
being out, but you can't risk your health over it."   
  
Frodo stepped back so he walked side by side with Gandalf, who   
plopped his large, floppy blue hat over the tweenager's head. It was   
much too big for Frodo and slid down over the lad's eyes.   
  
"Whoa!"   
  
Gandalf lifted the hobbit into one arm and continued walking,   
removing the hat.   
  
"Look!" Frodo called, pointing to a figure walking in the   
distance. "It's Ruby!"  
  
Gandalf let the hobbit down and watched as he hurried to greet   
the lass, knocking her over backwards. "Pinned ya!" Frodo teased.   
Ruby raised an eyebrow before reversing positions so that she was on   
top of him instead.   
  
"I think not." She laughed. "So who are you with?" She asked once   
they both stood up and brushed dust and dead grass from their   
clothes.   
  
Frodo pointed behind him and Ruby turned. "Gandalf!" She   
cried. "I've heard all about you, of course! You're in a lot of our   
stories and songs! I never thought I'd meet you in person--are you tr   
uly immortal? My pa' says you are at least 1,000 years old!" She said   
all of this very fast and the wizard laughed.   
  
"I am immortal, miss. And what is your name?"  
  
"I'm terribly sorry--I am Ruby Proudfoot." She curtsied. "A great   
pleasure to meet you of course."  
  
"The same to you. And you are a friend of Frodo's?"  
  
She nodded. "We met at Fatty Bolger's birthday party last year."  
  
Frodo turned to her. "Would you like to come into town with us?"  
  
"Thank you, no. I actually just returned from town. I had to pick   
up some eggs, flour and sugar for me ma--she's bakin' cookies today   
for Frankie's birthday." Frankie Proudfoot was Ruby's elder brother   
by 2 years."  
  
Frodo nodded but turned his head and sneezed loudly twice.   
  
"Are you ill, Frodo?" Ruby asked with concern.   
  
"Not ill--just allergic to everything it seems."   
  
Ruby raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes--your Uncle Bilbo told me about   
that when I saw him in town a few days ago. I hope you feel better   
soon, Frodo."  
  
"Thank you. Well--we'd best be off, but I'll see you later I am   
sure." He winked at her and teasingly tugged her long, curly auburn   
hair before receiving a poke in the side.  
  
"You bet. Pleasure meetin' you again, Mr. Gandalf. Good evening."   
She waved and headed home to her familie's smial. Frodo and Gandalf   
eventually reached the town of Hobbiton, which was bustling as usual.   
Frodo wanted to get Bilbo a gift to cheer him up and decided to go   
into the general store for it.   
  
"What were you thinking of getting your Uncle? That is a very   
nice thought." Gandalf told the hobbit with a smile.   
  
"I'm not sure. He has so many things at home already. Ooh--isn't   
this beautiful?" He walked over to a silver quill trimmed with gold   
in a crystal ink stand. He quickly checked his money pouch to see how   
much he had to spend and was pleased to see that he had enough to go   
on a bit of a shopping spree, so he decided to get the quill for   
Bilbo, which was worth nearly three-quarters of his money. He also   
bought a few new books for himself and then just wanted to walk   
around the town and explore before Gandalf suggested they head home   
for afternoon tea.   
  
  
When they got back to the smial, Frodo carried his purchases with   
a big smile and hurried straight for Bilbo's room. The old hobbit was   
still asleep so Frodo went to give him a gentle shake.   
  
"Bilbo," he spoke gently, but was startled when the old hobbit   
did not awake. "Bilbo!" He spoke again but a bit more loudly this   
time. Nothing. Then he was again aware of the intense heat coming off   
of his uncle's skin and called for Gandalf. 


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  
  
Gandalf rushed to Bilbo's side and placed a hand against the old hobbit's forehead. "Frodo," the wizard began in a calm voice, "Go and fetch Hamfast and tell him to fetch the healer."  
  
Without question, Frodo bolted off. First a broken ankle and now ill? What else could possibly happen?  
  
Gandalf, meanwhile, sat beside Bilbo's bed, blotting the hobbit's face and neck with a cool cloth. Bilbo, he guessed, must be dealing with more side effects from the pain medication.   
  
When the healer arrived, he was startled to find Bilbo so sick. "He must be allergic o the medication I prescribed. Has he been ill for long?"  
  
Frodo stood at the end of his Uncle's bed, his blue eyes filled with tears and his nose starting to run. Gandalf noticed this and handed the lad a fresh handkerchief.   
  
"No." Frodo replied, accepting it but ignoring it. "I just realized it today. He's been awfully tired and grouchy lately, though. He'll be all right, won't he?"  
  
Dr. Burrows smiled gently at the lad. "I believe so, Frodo. I don't have any expert advice except to keep a close eye on him and try to get his temperature down. When he wakes, give him plenty of fluids to keep him hydrated."  
  
Frodo glanced at Gandalf and wished he could be so calm in a situation such as this.   
  
"We'll do the best we can," the wizard promised. At that moment, Bilbo let out a soft moan and his brown eyes fluttered open.  
  
"Frodo?" he asked weakly and straight away, the tweenger hurried to his Uncle's side and took his hand.   
  
"I'm here, Uncle. The healer just said you're having an allergic reaction to the medicine. You'll be just fine."  
  
Bilbo gave his nephew a soft smile and his hand a gentle squeeze. Dr. Burrows folded his arms.  
  
"Glad to see you awake, Bilbo. Just take it easy for the next few days--I wouldn't advise eating anything heavy--just soups and maybe toast. You should feel better hopefully by tomorrow morning."  
  
Bilbo nodded, too tired to speak. The healer then said goodbye and left on his rounds. Frodo suddenly sneezed a few times, leaning his head against the mattress, taking a deep breath. "You might be here a while, Gandalf." The lad whispered.   
  
"Frodo, cricket--I'll be just fine." Bilbo comforted in a tired tone.   
  
"Lad--I would suggeset you get some sleep," Gandalf spoke to Frodo, who started to protest but neither of his elders would hear of it.   
  
"Go and rest, honeypot. Gandalf will be here with me." Bilbo promised.   
  
Frodo finally agreed and went to lay down in his own bed, feeling hot tears slide down his cheeks. How he longed to go with his Uncle for a romp around the Shire and perhaps Ruby or Fredegar would come along with them. He wanted to go and visit his cousins at Brandy Hall or at the Great Smial, but now he knew that the trip would be very hard for him and of course for Bilbo for a while. He glanced over at his desk and realized he'd forgotten all about the luxury quill he'd bought for Bilbo at the market and felt rather stupid. 'Well,' he thought, 'I'll give it to him now or I'll forget if I decide to fall asleep.' So he slid out of bed and hurried to pick up the parsel before rushing back into Bilbo's room.   
  
"Frodo," The old hobbit warned when he saw the lad enter, but then noticed that Frodo carried a small package in his hands. "What have you got there, my boy?" He asked curiously.   
  
"A gift for you, Uncle Bilbo."  
  
The old hobbit struggled to lean up against the headboard. "For me? But Frodo, our birthday's aren't for at least another two months!"  
  
Gandalf smiled as Frodo climbed up onto the bed and set the gift on Bilbo's lap. "It's a cheer up gift. I wasn't sure what you didn't have so I just picked out something that I thought you'd like or could use."  
  
Bilbo gave Frodo a kiss before taking off the paper. He gasped when he saw the quill, and immediately gave Frodo a big hug. "Oh lad--thank you so much. This must have cost all of your coppers!"  
  
"Not all, but a lot." Frodo chuckled. "It was worth it for you, Uncle."  
  
"I love it. Did you see, Gandalf? Isn't it precious?" Bilbo held the quill up so the wizard could get a better look at it.   
  
"Lovely."  
  
"Thank you, cricket. This definitely cheers me up. What did you get for yourself, though?"  
  
"A few new books. Not much I want and we have plenty of sweets here so I wouldn't bother spending my money on that."  
  
Both Gandalf and Bilbo laughed. "Sit this on my desk, Frodo, so I can see it--that's it. Now go and rest your eyes--Gandalf is going to make supper for us tonight."  
  
Frodo nodded. "All right." He wrapped Bilbo in another hug before going to take a nap for good this time. 


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13  
  
Frodo awoke later that evening. Yawning and stretching his   
arms over his head, Frodo turned and glanced at the clock on his   
nightstand—it was nearly dinnertime. `Wonder what Gandalf cooked for   
Bilbo and I tonight,' he thought, still a bit uncertain about the   
wizard's capability.   
  
Frodo lay in bed for a few moments, adjusting to the late   
evening light that streamed through his bedroomw indow before forcing   
himself to the floor. He became aware of a slight pressure between   
his eyes, and rubbed his forehead with a small moan. He went to fetch   
a handkerchief to blow his nose, but was startled to find that   
nothing but air came out—he was so plugged up.   
  
Still clutching the handkerchief, he shuffled out of his room   
and headed for the kitchen, where the wizard stood at the stove   
stirring something in a large pot. "Hullo." Frodo mumbled stuffily.   
  
"Good evening, lad." Gandalf chortled. "Did a nice rest help?"  
  
"I feel worse," Frodo sighed. "My nose is so stuffed up—can   
barely breathe through it. And when I blow nothing comes out."  
  
Gandalf clucked his tongue. "Your sinuses must be acting up   
again. Poor Frodo. Well—hopefully you'll be able to taste what I've   
made for you—cream of broccoli soup, and breaded chicken with string   
beans."  
  
"Sounds wonderful." Frodo sniffled before sneezing   
loudly. "Is Bilbo still sleeping?" He asked.   
  
"He is, Frodo. And thank goodness the fever has gone down   
quite a bit—he will have to stop taking his pain medication for a   
while, since it affects him this much."  
  
Frodo's eyes widened. "He'll be hurting so much then. It's   
not fair."  
  
Gandalf raised a bushy-gray eyebrow. "Life is not always   
fair, Frodo. Here—taste this soup and tell me what you think. Mind   
you—if you have to sneeze, turn your head."  
  
Frodo rolled his eyes as he walked up to stand beside Gandalf   
and watched as the wizard took a small spoonful of the concoction,   
and opened his mouth. "I think I might need a bit more salt."  
  
Frodo accepted the mouthful and was glad that he could at   
least taste a hint of it. "It's good from what I can detect, Gandalf.   
Bilbo would be the better one to ask—he's not all stuffed up like I   
am."  
  
The wizard ruffled the tweenager's head of hair and told him   
to go and see to his Uncle. When Frodo entered Bilbo's room, he found   
the older hobbit awake in bed with his large, read, leatherbound book   
open on his lap and the new quill in his hand. Bilbo's concentration   
was so focused on what he was writing that he didn't even see or hear   
Frodo walk in and nearly jumped three feet when Frodo gave him a kiss   
on the cheek.   
  
"Oh cricket—I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that."   
Bilbo gasped, clutching at his heart. Frodo giggled and climbed up   
onto Bilbo's bed.   
  
"What are you doing?" He asked.   
  
"Writing. You sound so clogged, my boy."  
  
"I am. It hurts right in here." Frodo pointed to the space   
between his eyes and lay down beside Bilbo again. The old hobbit   
positioned his body so that Frodo's head was lying on his stomach and   
his arm was around the lad.   
  
"Is this your novel?" Frodo asked as he gazed at the neat   
script on the parchment.   
  
"It is in deed, Frodo. And one day, it will be passed to   
you." Bilbo planted a kiss on Frodo's head.   
  
"Dinner time," Gandalf eventually announced, carrying two   
trays into the room.   
  
"Oh Gandalf—thank you." Bilbo laughed once both of the   
hobbits were leaning up against the headboard. "It smells wonderful."  
  
"Cream of broccoli soup, breaded chicken and stringbeans,"   
said Frodo as he accepted his tray.   
  
"And a glass of ice cold lemonade." Gandalf added. "Let me   
know what you think."  
  
Bilbo took a spoonful and closed his eyes, savouring the   
salty yet splendid taste of the soup. "It is wonderful. I would have   
never guessed that you made this yourself."  
  
Gandalf chortled. "You underestimate my abilities, Bilbo." He   
watched as the hobbits continued eating, pleased by the expressions   
of content on their faces. When supper ended, Gandalf brought the   
trays, dishes, silverware and glasses back to the kitchen and Frodo   
snuggled under the blankets with his Uncle.   
  
"How does your ankle feel?" Frodo asked, once they were   
facing each other.   
  
"Still aches dreadfully, but of course the medicine makes me   
sick so I have to suffer through it."  
  
Frodo smiled as he watched Bilbo close his eyes, and listened   
to the older hobbit's gentle breathing. The sound was enough to put   
Frodo straight to sleep, and neither of them realized it when Gandalf   
tiptoed back into the room, blew out the candle and walked out again. 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
  
Eventually--towards the beginning of September, Bilbo's broken ankle began to heal. He, as Dr. Burrows had warned, would gain a small limp as a result of the fracture.   
  
"Should be hardly noticible," Dr. Burrows insisted as he watched Bilbo walk around the parlor.   
  
Gandalf once again left the Shire without so much as a goodbye, and it would be nearly two months before either of the Baggins's saw him again.   
  
Frodo, meanwhile, began to feel better with the arrival of the fall season. "So your allergies are seasonal," Dr. Burrows said with a smile after yet another check up. "That's good. At least you can have a relaxing winter." Frodo smiled--winter was rarely relaxing for him, what with the colds and flus he often suffered through, and they kept his Uncle on his toes. Still, Frodo cheered up when he recieved an invitation to attend Ruby Proudfoot's birthday party in West Farthing on September the 15th and he was thrilled when Bilbo insisted he accept the invitation.   
  
"You deserve it, lad." Bilbo told him with a smile. "Speaking of birthday parties--we have one to plan of our own soon."   
  
It was true--Frodo and Bilbo each had the same birthday--September the 22nd. When Frodo had come to live with his Uncle the year before, there had been an enormous party with spectacular fireworks compliments of Gandalf himself and plenty of food and fun for adults, children and tweenagers alike. However, Frodo was not one for large affairs such as that--he was rather shy when it came to enormous groups and tended to hide amongst the shadows.   
  
"Do we have to have a big party this year, Uncle?" Frodo asked as he sat in the kitchen on the night of the 12th. Bilbo stood at the counter, mixing together ingredients to create a wonderful apple cake for no apparent reason. The old hobbit stopped mixing the dry ingredients and turned around.   
  
"What did you have in mind, cricket?" He asked. "I thought you enjoyed yourself last year."  
  
Frodo shrugged. "I did, but--but I'd rather have a smaller party, with just our close relatives and friends. Sam and his family, Merry, Pippin and their parents, Fredegar and Ruby. They would be enough--and Gandalf if he is not galavanting somewhere."  
  
Bilbo smiled and walked over to his nephew, planting a kiss on the lad's head. "Then, love, you shall have just that." He promised.   
  
"Truly?" Frodo asked, his lips breaking into a big smile.   
  
"Truly." Bilbo replied, and turned his attention back to the cake.   
  
Closing his eyes and taking in the scent of sweet apples and brown sugar, Frodo then realized how truly lucky he was.   
  
*THE END* 


End file.
